Status Procul Terminus
by beverytender
Summary: Sometimes you have to start at the end, and sometimes you have to go back to the beginning.
1. Chapter 1

He wasn't sure what brought him here, to this tiny little white house in this tiny little town where he knew _she_ lived. It wasn't as if he had the right to show up on her doorstop, as if she'd want to see him, especially today. But he'd missed so many of her birthdays, and he couldn't stop himself from coming here for this one, her fortieth, just like he couldn't stop himself from lifting his hand and knocking on her door.

He didn't know the man who opened it, this grown man – god, were they really this old? – who was obviously _her_ son, smiling at him as if former friends that have long become strangers showed up there every day. He probably didn't recognize him anyways, god only knew he looked so much different now, so much older.

And then there she was, smiling and laughing with a silly 'happy birthday!' tiara on her head, walking up to the door, asking who was there. He almost turned away, not wanting to see her face drop when she realized who it was. She stilled, words dying on her lips and her son turned to her, instantly asking if she was alright. She shushed him, and stepped forward, a tremulous and small – but oh god, gorgeous - smile on her lips as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, voice so much softer then he remembered it, whispering, _hey, sugah. how are you?_

He almost sobbed, relieved beyond belief, and returned the hug, _oh, god, i missed you, rogue._

It was so nice to be home, even if he was 21 years late getting back.


	2. Chapter 2

She invited him in quickly, showing off three daughters, two sons, and a tiny baby, her first grandchild, she noted proudly – and bustling him into the kitchen, loading him up with a plate of food, assuring him that they had plenty. The man who had opened the door jumped in there, a teasing remark about how "_Mama always made enough to feed thirty of us, and herself besides." _

He took a seat, fading into the background for the most part, more then content to watch her interact with these people. She was incredibly different, but she was the same all at once, inexplicably herself and someone else that he barely recognized, but swiftly fell in love – back in love – with, as if nothing had changed from when they were teenagers and she was untouchable in more ways then one and he wanted everything he couldn't, didn't, have, as if everything had changed from the last time he'd seen her.

This was what he had missed the most. Even then, when she was separate from everyone else in the most vital and least important way, she'd been like this, the caretaker, as much as she could. It took his breath away to see her like this, the way he could tell she was always supposed to be.

She was happier then he could ever remember seeing her, and more beautiful then he knew she'd ever been. Then again, he'd changed as well, and his definition of beauty along with him.

A few hours passed, too slowly and too quickly, and soon enough she was smiling at him – oh, god, that smile – over a piece of cake while her youngest kissed her cheek and headed upstairs, "Really, Johnny. How have you been? It's been much too long."

He met her eyes, remembering how he couldn't the last time he saw her, and told her the truth, "Happy. I've been happy."

"You look it. Much healthier and happier then I can ever remember you being." She nodded.

He inhaled, "I want to apologize. I did a lot wrong, especially by you, and want you to know that I always – that I am sorry."

She shook her head slightly, and stood, crossing to where he sat to brush his hair back from his forehead and place a kiss there, "I forgave you a long time ago, sugah. I was just waiting for you to forgive yourself."

He let the breath he'd been holding out, looking up at her slowly, "Happy birthday, Rogue."

She smiled again, running her fingers through his hair and he let his eyes close, resting his forehead against her stomach, the words sliding out much easier then he'd expected they would, "I love you."

"Oh, Johnny." She slid her hands down his arms, pulling him up gently and cupping his face, standing on her tiptoes to press her lips to his. "You've always had such a way with timing."


	3. Chapter 3

_John stumbled into the house, obviously, obnoxiously, drunk. He slammed the door shut behind him, laughing when a picture fell from the foyer wall with a crash._

Utterly unsurprised, Rogue walked out of the kitchen, drying her hands on a dishrag. She shook her head slightly, bending to pick up the picture. "John, I swear to God if you wake them up."

"Oh, relax, Roguey! They're babies, they'll sleep through anything."

"No, they won't." She snapped, "They hardly sleep at all, actually, which you'd know if you were ever home, or hell, ever sober."

His eyes narrowed, and she shook her head again, waving a hand at him, "Take a shower, John, ya stink. I'm going to bed."

It was the same pattern, repeated every time he was in town and decided to grace his family with his presence for a few months, for the first week everything would be great, and then he'd realize over again what it was like to live with two babies, twin girls with a penchant for screaming louder when their Daddy was around.

He'd be disappearing again soon anyways, he made it a point to never stay more then a week.

She knew she should probably kick him out, or tell him that if this was how it was going to be then he couldn't come back here, god knows everyone had told her that it wasn't worth it and that he'd never change, but Matthew, their oldest at a whopping three years old, was always so excited when Daddy showed up. John had been around for almost his entire first year, and he idolized him. She couldn't deny him that, even though she probably should.

John did one thing right at least. When she'd found out she was pregnant the first time and moved out, they'd been on the outs again, and when he did show up, about a week before she gave birth, she made him swear that they'd keep the war as far from the baby as they could. He'd kept that promise at least, along with taking care of them financially. She hadn't asked, but she was pretty sure that most if not all of the money he made he sent to them, because when he did turn up, he was always much too thin and usually wear the same clothes he'd been wearing when he left. She'd never asked what he did when he wasn't with them. She'd left the X-Men for a reason, she didn't want to be a part of the fight anymore, not until she absolutely had to again. She just plain didn't want to know.

That'd been three and a half years ago, and he'd managed to show up and disappear 23 times over that period, the longest he'd stayed was a month, and the longest he'd stayed away was three months, although he had written her over that period.

She frowned, crossing another day off her calendar. That made 6 days he'd been here, and 4 of which he'd spent the majority of the day at a bar. She crossed to the bathroom, filling a small glass with water and taking an aspirin. He hadn't been drinking that much the last time he was here, and she had to wonder what had happened to make it worse. She wouldn't ask, though, and she knew he wouldn't tell her.

It had been nice when he showed up this time, actually. It was the day after her birthday, although he'd thought it was her birthday, and he'd had a present, even. Cheap costume jewelry and half dead flowers but it'd been a long time since she'd celebrated anything, let alone her own life, so it was more then enough. He'd even went so far as to help Matthew make a lopsided, only half done cake. She'd enjoyed every second of it, knowing it wouldn't last.

She moved back into the bedroom, greeted with the not new sight of John digging through the closet, "I threw it all out the last time. You remember, when you got drunk at your son's best friend's birthday party and started a fist fight with his father?"

Alright, so she let him come back, but that didn't mean she wasn't a little bitter.

And as usual, he fell back on his old standbys. "He was asking for it."

"Really, John? He walked up to you and said, 'Hey, can you please beat the shit out of me in front of our impressionable three year old children who are learning how they should treat other people as we speak?"

Alright, she was a little pissed, too.

"Yes. Word for word."

She shook her head, sitting down on the edge of the bed, "If he ends up like you."

"What? What if he does?" He turned to look at her then.

"I don't know what I'll do. I can't deal with one of you, let alone two!"

"I'm not that bad."

"Yes, you are. You are that bad and worse."

He didn't say anything to that, and she stood, "You show up whenever you want, you leave whenever you want, you don't do anything while you're here except drink!"

"I've done a couple things other then drink," He looked at her stomach pointedly.

"Guess what, John! You have a son that missed you and already knows you're going to leave again, and would really like to spend time with his father before he disappears. Do you ever think about that, what you're doing to him when you're gone?"

"If I'm as bad as you say I am, then isn't he better off without me around?" John demanded.

"You know what? Maybe we are." She exhaled.


End file.
